Shaking his head, he tore his eyes back to the High Street, in search of the coffee shop he knew was up the top of the town somewhere.

Picking up his pace, he was tickled to find, on entering Willowbury’s number-one coffee establishment (as dictated by the sign in the window, at least), that even the hot beverages in this place had a twist of the alternative about them. Among the Americanos, lattes and flat whites that could be found anywhere was a smattering of exotic twists from all around the world, from Turkish to Egyptian to Vietnamese blends and varieties. Charlie wondered wryly whether air miles were factored into the costs.

‘Morning, sir!’ A cheery voice greeted him as he walked up to the counter. The owner of the voice, a man who Charlie judged to be in his late thirties, and from his name badge was called Jack, gestured to the menu behind him. ‘What can I get you?’

Charlie glanced up at the menu boards and then back at the barista. ‘Just a flat white, thanks.’

‘We’ve got a promotion on the fair-trade South-west Guatemalan beans this week if you’d like to give them a go,’ Jack responded. ‘A hint of chocolate and almond. Goes down beautifully with one of our amaretto croissants, if you’d like one.’

‘Sounds great, thank you,’ Charlie replied.

Five minutes later he was chowing down on a flaky, amaretto-soaked croissant and trying to identify the alleged flavour notes in the coffee. He’d taken a seat by the window, so he could gaze out at the High Street, which was showing more signs of life now than when he’d headed to his office earlier that morning.

Even on a workaday Tuesday, he was surprised to see the more unusual inhabitants of Willowbury out in force. He was jolted to see a woman in nun’s robes standing by a cool box of what appeared to be wrapped sandwiches, which had a sign propped against it reading ‘Free lunch for the homeless’. There were one or two people taking advantage of this gentle charity and being handed a sandwich and a bottle of water with a calm and gentle smile by the nun. He had no idea that Willowbury had an issue with the homeless, although, he figured, perhaps with its proximity to both the Strawberry Line cycle track and the more major towns of Wells and Taunton, both tourist traps, it became more of a magnet during the summer months. He made a note on his phone to add that to his list of enquiries for Tom Fielding when they met later on. Some members of his party were positively medieval when it came to their attitudes to the homeless; Charlie wasn’t one of them. He believed in supporting people until they no longer needed to be supported, and if homelessness was an issue here, he needed to know about it.